


Stand Up

by Valeria2067



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-The Reichenbach Fall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 10:14:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valeria2067/pseuds/Valeria2067
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock prepares to give the second-most difficult performance of his life. Once again, John Watson is the main reason for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand Up

 

Sherlock had promised himself he would fulfill his duty as best man properly. He would do this for the sake of the one friendship that had meant more to him than any other. He would do this for John, the one person who meant more to him than any other. Perhaps he was even doing this as a kind of penance for all of the pain —before, during, and after the Fall - that he had made John suffer.

Whatever the reason, however, the task itself was more difficult than he’d imagined. How did one give a speech that could do justice to the John Watson Sherlock knew and lo—

“Stop it,” Sherlock warned himself. “Don’t even think it. Not that word. Not now.” Not ever.

Sherlock had never fully understood the meaning of that word until John. And now, it seemed, it was too late. Not that Sherlock wanted or needed marriage to solidify his felings. Not that John couldn’t still be his best friend, his one friend, even after this wedding. But, love, as Sherlock now understood it, the kind of love he felt for John, the kind he wanted from John, required a focus, an intensity that a married John Watson would not willingly give to anyone other than a spouse.

 Sherlock looked at himself in the mirror of the elegant gentlemen’s toilet. He had under forty minutes, now, until he had to give the speech. He practised it again to his reflection.

“Doctor John Hamish Watson begins a new chapter of his life today. For Mrs. Watson’s sake, let us all hope he gives it a title more interesting than the ones he chooses for his blog posts.”

“STILL taking the mickey out of my blogging? On my wedding day, no less?”

Sherlock smiled.

“Oh, did you come in, John? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah, nice try, Sherlock Holmes. You knew I’d be in here before I did. Nearly ready?” John smiled at their reflections in the mirror and put a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. It felt warm. And strong. And infernally perfect.

“Yes, I should think. The Best Man’s speech is generally a standard pastiche of short anecdotes, insights on the nature of love, and wishes for a future filed with happiness and children. Not exactly a challenge.”

He watched as John straightened his own tie. “Well, all but the middle bit, right?”

“The middle bit?” Acid began to churn in Sherlock’s stomach.

John’s reflected gaze met Sherlock’s. “The bit about the nature of love. But no worries. Not everyone is born a slave to romance like some of us poor sods. And you are a bloody brilliant actor. Crime-solving’s gain was the West End’s loss, I keep telling you.”

Tears began to sting in the backs of Sherlock’s eyes. “Yes, John. So you keep telling me.” A few seconds later, the room began to sway.

“Hey… You all right?” John turned and took Sherlock by the shoulders to steady him. The swaying decreased, but only a little. “Sherlock, have you eaten anything in the last 24 hours? Have you even slept in the last 48? C’mon, now, I need you with me, here. I can’t do this without you.”

“But you can, John. Obviously, you can.” By now, Sherlock had to close his eyes to keep from pitching forward. He held onto John’s arms as though they were the only things keeping him alive at that moment. Perhaps they actually were…

“Sherlock…”

“You’ve done everything without me since I left. You’ve made your own life, and I can’t…. I can’t be part of it. I can’t do this, John. Call it pride or sentiment or jealousy or—”

“Love?” Through the swirling mess in Sherlock’s mind, John’s voice rang out, true and steady.

“I don’t … I don’t know, John. Yes, I think so… Perhaps.”

_Lies. You’ve never been more certain of any fact in your life._

“Jesus Christ, Sherlock. And you wait until I’m legally married to figure this out?”

“No, John. I knew the moment I came back. But you were so angry, and you had Mary… And I’d already hurt you so much… I didn’t want…. I couldn’t…..”

This time, Sherlock fell forward in earnest, and soon he found his lips interlocking with John’s as John kissed him roughly, angrily.

“God damn you…,” John growled as he bit Sherlock’s lower lip. “Damn you…”

Strong hands pulled the long jacket off of Sherlock’s shoulders. Those same hands loosened Sherlock’s silk tie, unbuttoned the collar of the fine, tailored shirt. All the while, John’s mouth held Sherlock’s captive, kissing and biting.

When Sherlock attempted to pull away, one of John’s hands reached up and took hold of Sherlock’s slicked-back curls. John pulled Sherlock’s face down to just below John’s eye-level.

“Now pay attention to me. I want you to listen to every word, Sherlock. Are you listening?” John tugged at Sherlock’s hair until he was rewarded with a small nod.

“Good. Because I want you to know that I was ready to give up on love because of you. Hell, I finally DID give up on it. I loved you, but I knew you could never….or would never….waste your time and your massive intellect on loving anyone back, not even your only supposed friend. So I dealt with it, right? I made the decision to put aside what I wanted, what I needed…needed so bloody much, Sherlock,…and make myself content with being your colleague, or your friend, or your blogger, or whatever the hell else you decided to call me on any given day. And do you know what it felt like when I made that decision? I’ll tell you. It hurt like hell. It hurt worse than that bullet in Afghanistan, worse than any broken heart I’d ever had, worse than everything until the day I saw you jump off of the roof.”

Sherlock’s eyes were full, now, and his teardrops fell onto the marble flooring.

“I wanted to die nearly every day for the next six months, Sherlock. But I didn’t give in. I didn’t abandon the people who cared about me. I actually managed to let myself fall in love again, and with someone who was ready to love ME this time.”

John brought Sherlock into another deep, rough kiss. Sherlock let out a small sob around it, and John pulled Sherlock back to meet his eyes again.

“I dealt with the unbearable, d’you hear me?” At this, he let go of Sherlock’s hair, stood him up straight again, and smoothed out the fabric of Sherlock’s sleeves.

“I did what I had to do to survive. I faced it, and I did my duty. And that’s what you’re going to do. Right now. You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to do your duty, no matter how much it hurts.”

From somewhere Sherlock could barely identify, he heard his own voice answer. “Yes, John.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Photos posted by [cumbercrieff](http://cumbercrieff.tumblr.com/post/63063635874/before-and-after):

  _[Before](http://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2013/03/photos-hollywood-portfolio-bruce-weber_slideshow_item14_15) and [After](http://mifkated-di.tumblr.com/post/63059495616)_


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